Scar Tissue (13 page)

‘What I’d like to ask is if you’ll carry on being brave and resourceful. You see, we’ve come to believe, as you do, that Marsh has illicit contacts with two major criminals.’

‘Just the two?’ I asked tartly – if you’ll forgive the pun. ‘Still, I suppose when they’re the calibre of Granville and van der Poele that’s probably enough.’

He was about to reply, but a barman with a swarthy complexion the texture of grapefruit skin brought over a dish of nuts, which he placed without speaking between the two men. Those sandwiches seemed a very long time ago. Didn’t I see a TV programme once, where they experimented on some rats, keeping them hungry and placing food just out of range? The idea was that the rats would use will power to bring the food nearer. Perhaps this was a rerun of the same experiment. Should I participate or not? Not. I reached for them. The will power I’d thus saved could be used to stop me from snaffling the lot.

The waiter returned with leather-bound menus and a tentative smile. No wonder he tried not to open his lips: his teeth needed urgent attention. He asked, with a thick accent, ‘You like drink before meal?’

Meal! That was just what I wanted to hear. I must go easy on the nuts, then, to save some space for what I hoped would be a real treat.

‘Oh, yes, a drink – but I don’t think we shall be eating –’ Moffatt began.

I must have had some will power in reserve.

‘Or would you, er, Lucy –?’

Yes! ‘I would, please,’ I said, quietly but firmly.

‘In that case, could you find us a table out on the terrace, perhaps? It’s such a lovely evening, isn’t it?’ he added, smiling at me. He seemed to be treating me as a niece he enjoyed indulging. Or was he softening me up for something? Just how long would he expect me to be brave and resourceful? Not to mention just how much Bravery and Resourcefulness might he require?

The waiter distributed the menus, and hovered hopefully with his order pad.

A little bit of B and R might be called for right now, come to think of it. I was used to a half, or at most a pint, of Bishop’s Finger at a session. If I started swigging alcohol now, on an almost empty stomach, I might be too tight to follow as closely as I ought what was going on. One of my old mates, in similar situations where she needed to keep one step ahead of a punter she didn’t quite trust, used to have a Bloody Mary – without the vodka. She’d bought me one a couple of times. I can’t say they’d have got the ducks off the water, but they were a damned sight safer than
innocent-seeming
alcopops.

Moffatt went for sherry – I didn’t realise people still drank that – and Taz for a predictable half of lager. Moffatt seemed amused by my choice, but didn’t argue. Once we had drinks before us, the waiter seemed happy to wait till kingdom come for our order. Neither man opened his menu. God, I was so hungry. Instead of taking the edge off my hunger, the nuts seemed have sharpened it up. Perhaps if I went to the loo it’d stop me staring at the empty dish.

It was so long since I’d used ladies’ rooms like this! The hotels I’d worked from weren’t this class. One or two nicer punters – or simply ones hoping to impress me with the size of their wallets, if not of what Paula would call their wedding-tackle – had booked into better places, ones like this where there were tissues free for the taking and good quality soap and towels, not stuff that dripped from a dispenser and hard paper. If I hadn’t had the run of the Dawses’ place I don’t know how I could have resisted nicking a bar – not until I saw the beady lens of a little CCTV camera. I smiled at it, and retired to a cubicle.

Soap, no: that would be greedy and tempt that camera. But paper hankies, yes. I grabbed a fistful and shoved them in my bag. Why not? The hotel’s profit margin on the meal would no doubt be enough to pay for them twice over.

Thank God the menus were open when I got back and the men were talking about starters. Again, I ought to go easy. I’d not eaten a three-course meal for several years now – what if I filled up too early? I certainly wouldn’t risk, as Taz was suggesting, a pint of mussels. Or homemade soup with a crusty roll. Especially in this weather. Would choosing smoked salmon be pushing my luck?

Not if I didn’t have the expensive steak the men were ordering. But I had too much pride to ask for a smaller, cheaper one. I almost wished I hadn’t asked to eat. And then, relaxing my shoulders, I had a sudden rash of sanity. These men were only here because of me and my B and R. I deserved the best just as much as they did. Smoked salmon and steak it would be.

And Moffatt turned not a single silvering hair. He didn’t even ask for house wine. He chose a bottle of white and red from the main selection. This was going to be an evening to remember. All I had to do was to stay sober enough to remember it. And remember what I was committing myself to.

I was happy to let the men talk about cricket and the forthcoming football season: I quite like both, but top class sport had long since priced itself out of my range, so all I knew was what I gleaned from the newspapers or Meg’s radio programmes. The conversation turned to a leading footballer who was in the media spotlight after being caught betting.

To my surprise, Moffatt turned to me. ‘Are you a betting woman, Lucy?’

‘Can’t afford to be. I used to do Lotto if we got a bonus, but then Meg told us the odds against actually winning anything. By the way, what do I call you? I make a point of never accepting a meal from a man whose name I don’t know.’

Taz coughed.

‘John,’ Moffatt said, apparently unfazed. ‘I have an idea, though, that even if you could afford an account at a bookie’s, you’d still prefer money you earned to that you got in a windfall.’

I reflected. There was plenty of time. The waiter wanted to show us to our table. It was hard not to gasp with pleasure. The terrace overlooked what was obviously a golf course, but in the evening light looked just like a park with a beautiful lake. Magic. The waiter pulled back my chair for me and then for the men. When he’d flapped open starched linen serviettes – or were they napkins in these surroundings? – and laid them on our laps, he left us to it.

‘All circumstances being equal,’ I said, ‘I think you’re right, John. Much as I’d like a fairy-godmother, I like earning my money with the toil of my hands.’ I spread them out. There was still paint under some of the nails, too. ‘But I’ve an idea that you’re not introducing this simply as a theory.’

‘You’re right. Basically I’m asking you to make a choice – not now, but in the course of the evening – whether you want us to spirit you away to a safe house or whether you’re content to continue as you are. You know you’re at great risk if Marsh discovers you and tells his friends. But you might be very useful to us if you stayed out in the open.’

Before I could say anything a waitress had appeared, offering bread rolls. We all chose wholemeal. They were rounder than the white and she had a terrible job picking them up with a pair of tongs. It was all I could do not simply to grab one to put her out of her misery.

But there were more urgent things to think about than rookie waitresses. My life, for a start.

‘I saw a TV programme once,’ I said at last. ‘One of these nature documentaries. About great big lizards on some idyllic island. Tourists pay a lot of money to see these lizards, and get stroppy if they don’t. So to make sure the main act turns up, the locals tether a live goat where the lizards will hear it bleating. A sort of living dinner gong. Except the goat then becomes the dinner. Is this what you want me to be?’

‘Exactly. Except we shall do our utmost to see you don’t get eaten.’

I nodded slowly. Not quite irrelevantly, I asked, ‘When the first parcel bomb arrived, I’m sure that there was a lot of publicity and Granville –’

‘We don’t know for sure it was Granville,’ Taz interrupted.

‘Granville or whoever would have known he’d missed his target. What about publicity for today’s? He’d know it had arrived: I’d bet my boots that it was one of his men that delivered it.’ I was about to spout my theory when Moffatt interrupted.

‘None – yet. That’s another thing we need to discuss. We’ve given a lot of thought to this.’

‘“We” being?’

‘Quite a lot of people. The police have their own team to investigate internal corruption. A couple of them. Then,’ he continued, counting on his fingers, ‘the National Crime Squad, since Granville’s attracted the notice of a lot of forces all over the country, Kent County Constabulary – that’s me and some colleagues, and, since you’ve invited Taz to help, the Met. Is that enough? Oh, I’d forgotten the Immigration people and the Human Smuggling Unit given what’s in your photos.’

‘Plus MIS for the bomb.’

‘Quite a party,’ Taz said dryly.

‘If it’s mine, does that mean I can cry off if I want to?’

‘Exactly,’ Moffatt smiled. ‘But I rather hope you won’t.’

To do John Moffatt justice, he stuck to his promise that I need make no decisions till the end of the meal and didn’t press me at any point. The conversation turned to the food, which was so good I almost wished I hadn’t nicked those paper hankies. The wine made me forget I had. But there were some things I hadn’t forgotten.

‘Did you find anything at Crabton Manor?’ I asked Taz.

He shook his head. He seemed to have rather more mussels left – in a stylish bucket – than he’d started with.

‘I told him not to expose anyone to any sort of danger,’ Moffatt said firmly. ‘Your boss – Ms Farmer?’

‘Paula Farmer,’ I agreed. ‘Except of course she’s not a farmer, any more than I’m a tiler. Or indeed a tailor.’ Hmm. I’d better go easy on the booze. If the white was anything to go by, the red would be heady, powerful stuff.

So ought Taz. He jumped in. ‘Paula’s tour meant I know my way around now. I should be able to put together a rough ground plan –’

‘You don’t need to,’ I said. ‘Paula’s got one already. Precise and detailed. For doing estimates,’ I explained, realising I’d been a bit unkind. ‘At one time van der Poele said he might want us to decorate the inside as well, but he seems to have gone off the idea. Pity. Nice big indoors job for winter. At least we’ve still got the Fullers contract, though.’ I reached quickly for the water.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

‘You needed to case the joint anyway,’ I said reasonably,
sitting on an urge to point out that he hadn’t asked me. I’d thought, after all, that he was going to do a superficial search. ‘And some people can’t read plans – like some can’t read maps or music. Or read full stop.’ At least two glasses of water before a drop more alcohol. For good measure I covered my glass when the waiter flashed the bottle again. When he’d gone, I downed the first glass of water. I wouldn’t have expected the effect to be so immediate. ‘That business about money, John. Were you implying that if I just swanned off and let you people look after me you’d actually pay me?’

‘We’d make up what wages you missed. The problem is that once you go into the scheme you literally give up your old life. Your whole identity. You’d probably get retrained in a new skill.’

‘No more Paula’s Pots, no more working for the Daweses at Fullers?’

‘No. If we get a conviction, of course, you might well get a reward from Crime Stoppers.’ He smiled.

‘And if I stay where I am, working for my living with people I like, do we – do they – get any protection? And does someone keep an eye on Fullers so that the Daweses can be safe? For a long time? Clive Granville has a long memory and a lot of money – he can pull more strings even when he’s inside than most men can when they’re completely free.’

He didn’t give a straight answer, of course. ‘The courts have powers to confiscate ill-gotten gains these days. Especially where drugs are concerned.’

‘You know about his drug-dealing activities, then? I thought it was just the bombs and immigration scam that –’

‘I told you, Caffy – there are a lot of people in the team. Ah, our main course.’

Little lights were coming on all over the golf course. Some were reflected in the lake. The waiter lit candles on the table. I could get to enjoy living like this. Perhaps I could retrain in hotel management. Now that was an idea – a real plus for the protection scheme.

At the next table, some old bat was snarling at the waitress, who had to smile and take it. No, I was better with Paula. At least I could swear back at her and she wouldn’t blink. At least, not very hard.

We all tucked into the main course without saying very much. Taz was probably glad of the excuse: it must be very hard to be closeted with such a senior officer in
circumstances
like this. Moffatt appeared to be thinking, looking up at me almost speculatively from time to time. I was happy simply to eat and be grateful. I’d probably said all that I needed to say – we all knew I’d carry on as I was. It was OK even to drink. The red was so smooth I could have sunk the bottle without noticing – until, that is, I’d come to stand up again. As it was, I paced myself. I couldn’t see Moffatt as a dessert man, but I could imagine him suggesting liqueurs with the coffee. And I could definitely see myself accepting one: I’m an absolute sucker for Tia Maria. Or that stuff they put coffee beans on and set alight. That’d look really pretty in the dusk. But, as I relaxed, something clicked in my head. I’d have been sick with horror, only that would have wasted time. ‘That bomb. So they know it was signed for and received. So do they assume the bomb didn’t go off or that it did go off
and for some reason there’s been a media black-out or that someone twigged and disabled the thing?’

‘What difference does it make?’ Taz really shouldn’t have had that last glass.

‘All the world to me and Fullers. Granville isn’t a man to be left in doubt. He’ll want to make sure I’ve been wiped out. If he suspects I haven’t, I’m –’

‘Very much at risk. Excuse me while I make a quick call.’ Moffatt fished out his mobile. The old bat coughed ostentatiously. Raising an irate eyebrow, he got to his feet. ‘We’ll get an immediate press release out. Explain the delay by saying that the family had to be informed.’

He headed for lights at the edge of the lake. Without speaking, Taz headed in the other direction, presumably for the gents’.

Moffatt was back first. ‘I’m still not happy about your returning to Fullers or the caravan till we’ve checked them over. How would you feel about staying here?’

I managed a dry laugh. ‘I don’t think so. Hotels like this aren’t entirely happy about accommodating young women looking like me and having no luggage.’ Especially after they’ve dined in the company of two men. But I wasn’t going to say that to him. I wondered with a sudden shiver if all those speculative glances hadn’t been… No, surely not. I hadn’t had a bad vibe all evening. But I was sure as hell getting one now. ‘No, I’d rather go home, please. I was hoping Taz might give me a lift but he’s in no state to drive, is he?’

‘I had an idea,’ he said, dropping his voice, ‘that you and Taz were an item. If you two wanted…’ Maybe I’d got the wrong vibe.

‘No. We’re not an item,’ I said flatly.

‘In that case I’ll get my driver to drop him off.’

‘Driver! Wow!’ Hell, I’d got diverted. How much had I sunk?

‘Doubling as an extra bit of security for us. If you swim with sharks, Caffy, you want to make sure your cage is as strong as possible. Which brings me back to your safety this evening. I’ve sent a few colleagues to check that Fullers is safe – and that mobile home that so fascinated Taz. So it’s Todd Dawes who’s taken you up, is it? He was a bad lad in his younger days, Caffy. Very bad. He’s supposed to have dabbled in every drug going.’ He sounded almost tetchy. Or was it speculative?

No, I’d better miss out on a liqueur. ‘So he must have gone through every cold turkey going, poor bugger,’ I observed. Then it dawned on me what he was implying. Taken me up, indeed! ‘He and his wife have become my friends, John. Dear, dear friends – both of them. Like second parents to me.’

‘Well, I hope they’re kinder to you than your first.’

Golly, the police had been doing their homework, hadn’t they? But they seemed to have forgotten one thing, as I should have pointed out to Moffatt when he’d talked about dropping Taz off. They’d worked out how to get Moffatt home – and he’d sorted out Taz’s arrangements. But what about me? A cab? Out here at this time on a Sunday evening would cost an arm and a leg. I certainly didn’t have enough cash on me.

Taz was just returning to the table when Moffatt’s phone rang. As one person, all the other diners turned to him in shocked reproach. He scurried back on to the grass.

‘Taz – can you do me a favour? And charge it to your expenses?’

‘What?’ He sat down.

‘Moffatt’s sorted out your transport to Maidstone. But what about me? He’s checking it’s safe for me to go to Fullers but I’ve no idea how to get there except have a cab.’

‘And you’ve made the state of your finances pretty clear.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No, it’s me that’s sorry. I’d no idea. You always seemed so well set up when –’

‘Quite,’ I said dryly.

‘Look,’ he began, taking my hand. ‘I’ve been – pretty
off-hand
– all weekend. Some of it was the shock of seeing you like this. And there’s other stuff too. Would you feel safer if I came back to Fullers with you? I could phone my friend.’

He was being suspiciously cagey about this Maidstone friend, but all the same I couldn’t stop myself blabbing out, ‘Would you? That’d be great. I’d feel a lot safer.’ But very uncertain. I’d no idea where he’d want to sleep – on his own or with me. And all the all hopes and uncertainties were thinking of bubbling up. Taz and me. What if it could be Taz and me? What if all his stroppiness and awkwardness had been because he’d really started to have feelings for me?

Or what if he’d been stroppy and awkward because that was the real Taz, and I’d put my own version of him on a pedestal?

But Moffatt was back, looking very serious. The waiter hurried forward tactlessly, flourishing the sweet menu. Without consulting either of us, Moffatt waved it away. ‘Coffee. And the bill, please.’

Bye-bye, Tia Maria.

Moffatt looked me full in the face. ‘It seems we were too late with the press announcement. Someone’s booby-trapped the caravan door –’

‘They haven’t hurt Fullers!’ I wailed.

‘Let’s just say, we’ll have the fire service standing by in case there’s a similar device attached to any of the doors. But we want to leave everything till daylight – for the same reasons as today’s low-key activities. But I rather think we’re going to have to generate a very loud bang, loud enough to convince our friends that this time they’ve been successful. Otherwise, Lucy, we have no choice – it’s witness protection for you, my girl.’

I knew what the Daweses would want. Or at least I thought so, until I heard the words come out with such finality. ‘You’d better blow up the caravan. At least it’ll mean they should lay off the house.’ Swallowing, I continued. ‘Todd and Jan haven’t been in touch with me since yesterday morning. They promised to leave their number with Paula. But we’ve been in a mobile dead spot all day.’

‘What’s her number?’ He passed over his phone.

The old bat coughed.

‘Hell and buggeration!’ He glowered at her and at the other diners. ‘Take her down to the lake, Taz. I’ll settle up and book her a room.’

‘Lucy Taylor,’ I hissed, just to be sure, and set out with Taz.

Romantic or what? A stroll in the lamplight, with a sickle moon just appearing. Me and the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Oh, I might mock, but he really was stunning.
Still, I’d better make that call, and he’d better have something handy to jot down the number I hoped Jan had left Paula.

A voice from behind us grated out, ‘Well?’

Moffatt. Maybe just as well. Better forget everything but praying Paula would answer, and have good news. ‘They left a message? Oh, thank God! Taz – write this down!’ I dictated the new number.

‘And do you expect to be at Crabton Manor tomorrow?’ Paula continued. ‘One or both of you?’

‘Me certainly,’ I said crossing my fingers. ‘Not sure about Taz.’

‘Someone else?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Let’s hope if there is a replacement, whoever it is hasn’t got such a bob on himself. And knows what to do with a paintbrush. Oh – hang on! You want us to pick you up?’

I knew they’d enjoy the experience as much as I would. ‘I’ll be waiting in the foyer,’ I said, adding in my poshest voice, ‘or you could always have my room paged.’

Jan and I made contact. They’d changed phones and were safe in an hotel favoured, said Jan, without apparent irony, by the rich and famous who demanded a high degree of security. Before I could say much, Moffatt retrieved his phone. He explained the situation gravely.

There was a moment while we waited for their response. Then he burst out laughing, and cut the call. ‘You know what they said? Exactly what you said. “You’d better blow up the caravan. At least it’ll mean they should lay off the house.”’

I did what I’d done the other day, and the shock of it was just as toe-curling. I burst into tears. I’d never before shared exactly the same thought with someone: I’d heard lovers say they did it. Todd and Jan were better than lovers. They were my closest friends. My family. And I was responsible for the destruction of their home, albeit a temporary one, and was putting their dearest possession at risk. OK, if it hadn’t been for a circumspect phone call, I might have been in Fullers and at risk myself. But I’ll swear it was for the synchronicity I was weeping.

It’s amazing what coffee and strong drink will do for hysterics. Moffatt was quite adamant that a decent single malt would be better for me than Tia Maria, though on what grounds he wasn’t clear. Perhaps it was because he felt he ought to have one too, just to make sure it was all right. Taz sat awkwardly, occasionally pithering with the sugar. I’d have loved to know what was going on in his head – or more particularly in his loins. Did I owe that to being afraid? I’d read that people who’d lost loved ones suddenly wanted to bonk like bunnies – often quite inappropriately. So it was all biological. The urge disappeared as fast as it had come.

Moffatt’s Visa card and the receipt for the meal lay on a little silver plate. It was time for polite goodbyes. Someone had to initiate the process. It had better be me. I said, ‘I’m sorry. All this emotion’s knackered me.’ I was just getting to my feet when Moffatt’s phone rang. Would we troop back to the lawn? Or head for the foyer, where calls were allowed. I headed for the foyer. It was nearer the lifts. The others had to follow.

‘It’s for you,’ Moffatt said. ‘Todd Dawes.’

I pressed the mobile to my ear. ‘Jan says if you can’t get into Fullers, you’ll need clothes and things. We’re paying. OK?’

‘But –’

‘And then,’ he said, as if he knew the information would mean I wouldn’t argue, ‘we shall claim on our insurance policy. Just go somewhere decent, open an account, and make sure you keep all the receipts.’ He rang off before I could even start thanking him.